


He Calls Me Crazy

by SaffronClover



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Love, Slow Dancing, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 10:58:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5705068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaffronClover/pseuds/SaffronClover





	He Calls Me Crazy

           "Mom, does it feel good to be home?"

           "It does, Shaun."

           Minerva sat on the edge of her bed, fingers running through her son's towhead hair. She pulled the old, moth eaten comforter up and over his shoulders, tucking in the sides to his body; the cold would not get to him tonight. This boy may not be her real Shaun but he was a small part of her son, so that's what she called him.

           "Then why do you look sad?" Her eyes went from the blanket to his face. A few freckles dotted his nose, much like hers did. His blue eyes studied her, and hers looked back searching for the right answer.

           "I'm not sad, I'm..." She hesitated. "It was a long road to get you back. I'm just tired."

           "Well don't stay up late then. There's a lot I want to see tomorrow." Shaun tucked his hands underneath his pillow and nuzzled it with his cheek. Minerva reached down and kissed his other, enjoying the warmth emanating from him.

           "You first, kid." With that she stood, and walked out the door.

           The snow first started falling the day before the caravan reached Sanctuary Hills. Many of the Minutemen groaned their disapproval, but Minerva welcomed it. For a moment the landscape did not look so bleak. The snow covered the wasted ground and the barren trees. It was March and she was ready for something a little different to look at than the remnants of what was once her home. Shaun seemed to like it too, having never seen the world outside of the Institute. For suddenly leaving what was once his whole world, Shaun was quite resilient and excited to see what was outside. That could be natural, or just the programming her real Shaun put into the Synth. Either way the boy was a breath of fresh air.

           Minerva walked the dimly lit sidewalk of Sanctuary Hills, letting the ghosts of her past pass her as she went. The fresh snow under her boots crunched with each step, and she wrapped the coat around her person even tighter. Up ahead the residents of their little community celebrated the fall of the Commonwealth's Boogyman. A couple roaring pyres danced in the cold, and people gathered around them with hot beverages in their hands, joyfully chattering.

           Off to the side a radio played the Diamond City Station, with all the 'latest' music. After the destruction of the Institute 'Atom Bomb Baby' had a new meaning. In front of the radio stood her right hand men: Preston Garvey and Sturges. Minerva hugged herself for warmth, and strode over to where they stood next to the fire. There the snow seemed to have fled from the hungry flames, and exposed the cracked black pavement beneath her feet.

           "General! Silver Shroud and Gronak the Barbarian, who would win?" Sturges asked excitedly

           "Excuse me?"

           "You have to convince Garvey here that Gronak would win in a fight between him and the Silver Shroud."

           "Hardly. Tactical fighting will win over brute force any day." Preston retorted.

           "I'm not getting into this." The General said, rolling her eyes playfully. "I'm not about to debate on which fictional characters would win. However, if I did I would have to say the Silver Shroud."

           "Aw man." Sturges bemoaned. "Of course you take his side."

           "Like I said, I'm not taking sides." Minerva grinned.

           Tonight was a celebration for the downfall of the Institute. It meant freedom from fear; fear of being replaced by a Synth, fear of losing a loved one. The Synths looking for a way out of their grasp was now a reality, one the Railroad was fully thankful to the Minutemen for. Both she and Preston were thankful for their backing, and everyone there knew they needed all the help offered.

           Sturges grumbled into his beer, and Preston flashed a grin at his General. This man had easily become her best friend and closest confidant over the last five months. He was the first friendly person she had met, and nearly as desperate as her in needing stable ground.

           "You two always team up against me. Where's Jun? He's easy to convince." Sturges grumbled as he trudged off in search of his friend.

           Minerva let a smile crack her face as she winked at Preston. Her counterpart suppressed a smile as he turned up his beer and downed the rest of it in one fatal swoop. At this point the waft of roasted Brahmin coursed through the air. A specialty dish was being served tonight in celebration, and everyone's mouth watered in anticipation. The nearest house, which would be the one at the end of the cul-de-sac, is what housed the makeshift cooking pit: A giant hole dug into the foundation of the house via the resident Supermutant, Strong, and used to cook the majority of the town's food. It was an idea MacCready suggested, something he learned on his travels.

           The townspeople slowly made their way into the house and away from the fires. Their chatter soon became a droning in the back ground, and sweet silence filled the air.

           "Did Shaun put up much of a fight?" Preston broke the silence with his question.

           "Hmm, not really. If the Institute did anything right, it was to teach him how to take orders well."

           "You almost make him sound like one of the Minutemen."

           Minerva nodded in agreement. "Maybe one day he will make a fine one."

           "Oh? Sounds like you plan on sticking around with us."

           The honey haired woman broke her gaze on the fire to look at Preston. He seemed to be sitting on the edge of thinly veiled excitement.

           "Garvey, honestly what else would I do?"

           "Hell if I have any idea, but good to know you want to still be with us. Some figured once you got your son back that you would not be able to go back out to patrol."

           "With this life I doubt I will ever be able to go back to what I once had."

           "Oh." For a split second Minerva saw something in her second-in-command she had never seen before: hurt. It was gone in a flash though, replaced by steeled composure.

           "Preston..." She trailed off, mouth slightly agape and feeling foolish. "Without you, without the Minutemen my son would not only be in the hands of the Institute still, but it's a good chance I would be dead. I owe you and these people everything."

           Preston sighed and nodded. "I know what you meant."

           The silence cut the air like a jagged, blunt knife. Minerva for once couldn't look at her friend, and felt foolish all for it.

            _"And that was 'Sixty Minute Man' by Billie Ward and the Dominos. Sixty Minute Man... I'm sure they're not just talking about sleeping. It's, you know, something else.. Hm, anyways, here's Henry Wadsworth Longfellow with 'Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall.'"_

          _"Into each life some rain must fall..."_

           "Minerva?" The General looked up and to Preston's outstretched hand. "Would you do the honor of dancing with me?"

           "I remember you saying you didn't dance." She gave skeptical smile.

           "Well I'm buzzed enough to think this is a good idea."

           That brought out a laugh from the vault dweller, and she took his hand. Quickly Preston pulled her in, placing a respectful hand on her back while the other held onto her hand. Minerva was just close enough to smell his pleasant musk, something many Commonwealth residents lacked.

           "Follow my lead." He said, and let go of her back, pushing her gently away but still tethered. He spun her gently under his arm then pulled her back in, putting his hand on her back once again. Minerva laughed again, and gave a high pitched whistle.

           "Well Preston Garvey, you're one hell of a dancer." She said with a dramatic southern-belle accent.

           "My parents made sure I knew how to. I was brought up learning how to dance, read, write, recite poetry all before the age of five. You name it, they probably tried to teach me."

           "Really? I didn't know. I guess there's not much I know about you, other than you being a Minuteman and a pretty damn admirable one."

           Preston blushed and adverted his gaze over Minerva's head. "I'm not exactly hiding anything. What would you like to know?"

           She hummed thoughtfully. "Well, you mentioned your parents. Tell me about where you came from, what your childhood looked like."

           "Ho boy. Well I was the middle of three kids: An older brother and younger sister. My family was one of affluence in the Columbia Commonwealth. We had guards, sentrybots, dogs; overall a fairly safe childhood. I wasn't exposed to much of the real world. I know my parents meant well, but it kept us sheltered and naive. Anyways, when I was fifteen I went out with my father to see how he conducted his business. A group of raiders overtook our guards, and nearly killed us... Here." He paused in his story to give her another twirl. This time his hand placement went a little farther south on her back than it was; still a respectable place but nearing disputed territory.

           "We were saved by Minutemen paroling the area. My father offered them money, a position on his guard, anything to pay them back. They wouldn't take anything as payment, saying it was their job. All they asked was to take whatever values the Raiders had. They helped without any ulterior motives, nothing to gain but to make this world a better place. I admired the hell out of that, and at that moment decided I would become a Minuteman."

           The radio dimmed, and picked up almost as quickly with the next song.

            _"I say I'll move the mountains, and I'll move the mountains if he wants..."_

           "Could you be any more perfect?"

           "I'm sorry?" Preston let out an embarrassed laugh.

           You came from a life where you didn't have to worry where your next meal came, where you slept, or who wanted to put a bullet in your head. You gave it all up to defend others, not many would do what you did."

           Preston averted his gaze like he did when he was embarrassed. "There are plenty who would do that, and I joined their ranks."

           "You have to give yourself more credit."

           "Just doing my duty, ma'am." He said in a half mocking tone.

            _"I say I'll go through fire, and I'll go through fire as he wants it, so it will be..."_

           Minerva pulled herself in close to him, and rested her head on his chest. He drew their hands in close as they continued to dance and listen to Billie Holiday. Only now did Minerva fully realize how much this man had become her rock, her best confidant. As much as he was desperate for her leadership, she was in need of his companionship. Her words were true: Without him she would be dead, either from raiders or by wild dogs; he saved her as much as she saved him.

           "You really are perfect, Preston." She nearly whispered.

           "Minerva." His had softly pressed into her lower back, and they stopped dancing. When she finally looked up at him her mouth went dry as if cotton were stuffed into her, and butterflies flitted in her chest.

            _"Like the wind that shakes the bough he moves me with a smile. The difficult I'll do right now, the impossible will take a little while..."_

           So much care and concern filled his eyes, and it was that look which gave her pause. She shied her gaze away, but his hand came up and caught her cheek. In that moment she leaned up and let her lips join his. They were soft and warm, his hand on her cheek was rough but so welcomed. Minerva snaked an arm around the back of his neck, pulling them closer as she hungered for his lips. At first Preston hesitated kissing his General back, but it took hardly any convincing to break down his barrier. His hands moved around her body and he pulled her into him, pressing his full self in.

           "Oh, shit." Both Preston and Minerva broke away from their kiss to find they were not alone. There stood Sturges, chipped plate full of cow meat and a surprised look plastered across his face; he might as well have just walked in on his parents.  
Minerva was the first to move away. "Excuse me." She muttered an apology to Preston without so much as a glance, and began to quickly make her way back to her home. She chastised herself for letting her guard down, especially in such a public place. Not only did she break some sort of code, but a small twinge of pain filled her thinking about Nate.

           With a thumb she traced her lower lip, feeling Preston's phanom against her still. Her heart was beating out of her chest, threatening to escape, and her adrenaline pumped; she couldn't decide if it was more excitement or embarrassment.

           Quietly Minerva opened the door to her room, and spied Shaun sleeping soundly. Quiet still she slipped out of her boots, and slipped into the bed next to him. Her son was warm, and it was quite the welcoming feeling.

           Sleep would evade her tonight as intrusive daydreams of dancing to Billie Holiday filled her mind.


End file.
